


Blood and Stars

by typicalwhisper



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, abo in the sense of like actual pack dynamics not ur kink stuff, vampires and werewolves u know the basics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typicalwhisper/pseuds/typicalwhisper
Summary: Ten likes high-risk partners in his bed, but not at his throat. Johnny is a little too fond of a human with a knack for finding trouble.





	Blood and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> sO this is partially taken from an au i have with my friend, partially written like? a year ago? with a Lot more tacked on at the beginning and ending. i love this universe i'll probably write more in it, or maybe she will, bc we have a TON developed in here

City lights swallow stars like hungry synthetic monsters. Ten knows this; he’s known this for a while, ever since he started watching the sky with purpose, watching the moon wax and wane. Sometimes he mourns the twinkling natural glow of a night sky. More often he’s drowning such sentimental thoughts in fluorescent lights and blaring music, with alcohol dribbling from his lips when he can’t dance and drink at the same time. He drowns it out with the floating, spacy feeling he can only get from a set of fangs buried in his neck. Or, for the more conservative vampires, latched onto his wrist. They suckle against his skin, leave dark bruises in their wake. They steal his life from him, guzzling down dark, hot blood as quickly as their greedy mouths can get it. Ten lets them, perhaps foolishly. He allows them to drink past his own dizziness and into that moment where he floats between life and death, weightless and free. It’s the best high he’s ever experienced and he loves every moment of it.

Ten comes to in his own bed, not recognizing the room without the weight of another body beside him at first. How long has it been since he’s come home alone? Vampires, werewolves.. anything with two legs ( at least most of the time ) and a pulse ( or not; some of the hungry ones have hearts that beat so slowly they may as well be animated corpses ) is welcomed to his bed. It’s an addiction he hasn’t been able to kick, not even with near-broken bones from overenthusiastic werewolves or close calls with undisciplined vampires.

He closes his eyes and traces his fingers over the sensitive area where his neck meets his shoulder, feeling the tiny puncture wounds there. He remembers just a couple of years back when his friend had taken him to a club where some local rock band was playing. Ten hardly spoke a lick of Korean then, but he didn’t need to when he had shouldered his way to the front of the crowd. The looks the lead guitarist had given the audience, half-hooded and as if he was about to orgasm right in front of them just from having their attention, enthralled the young man more than the bright hue of his hair or the red gleam in his eyes. They shared a look. Ten licked his lips, the frontman winked.

That night had been his first encounter with the inhuman parts of the world. The wannabe rockstar dragged the pretty foreigner backstage, teased him with Korean that Ten didn’t understand and offered him drinks from a cooler the drummer was sitting on with a girl draped across his lap. Ten wasn’t even buzzed when the two of them hid away in the bathroom. Oh, he was reactive as ever to a good lay! But the moment the young man sunk teeth in his neck, Ten knew he was hooked. He woke up in black silk sheets next to a cold porcelain body, still dizzy and disoriented.

He tried it again a week later.

The vampire rockstar had been his gateway drug. Ten crawls out of bed, wincing as something in his shoulder aches something terrible. A glance in the bathroom mirror will show him another pretty set of bite marks, these ones less neat and pretty as those caused by fangs. The werewolves tended to be very giving lovers, but their enthusiasm often got the better of them.

Warm water rinses sweat and blood from his hair, unties the tense muscles in his back. Sandalwood shampoo clears the scent of death and wet dog from his skin. Ten sighs in relief as pink-tinted water flushes itself down the drain, running clear only after the last of the suds are rinsed from his scalp.

There’s no one to escort out of his room this morning. There’s no ceremony when he throws on the nearest pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt three sizes too large for him. He knows exactly who it belongs to. Alpha werewolf, the leader of a pack. Ten had picked him out from the crowd, the wolves around him yipping and bounding around excitedly despite being in their two-legged bodies. They drank too much, partied too loudly, and ultimately kept stealing glances back to their brooding alpha to make sure they weren’t stepping out of line. Ten had picked up on it.

He had never been with an alpha werewolf before that first night. He was pleased to report that it had not only been one night but several after that. Johnny was careful, holding the human with gentle hands and never bearing his teeth upon already scarred flesh. It frustrated Ten, but even the well-disciplined alpha could be convinced to give him a little more.

The t-shirt still smells of the big werewolf. Ten doesn’t think too much of what it means when he tucks his nose under the stretched-out collar and breathes deep. He just likes the smell of Johnny’s cologne, that’s all. He is a free spirit, even if a couple nights have turned into several nights. He doesn’t settle down, even if he visits Johnny and the pack more often than he calls his own mother back in his home country.

\---

The moon hangs over his head, the only celestial body alight in the night sky in a city as large as this. She hovers there, just a sliver past full, waning away slowly until she’s all but vanished from the sky only to return again. Ten was careful last night. The full moon makes the werewolves he knows go crazy; manic and bloodthirsty and killing everything in their path. It had been a good night to stay in.

He’s alone now, but he feels safe enough. The streets should be no more dangerous than any other night, now that the moon takes the craze away as she wanes. He’s just walking back from a friend’s home, picking up a copy of the notes he had missed in class a few days ago and had wanted to gloss over before the test. The papers make no difference in the weight of his backpack, but Ten’s steps feel a little slower than they had been when he was walking the other way. He doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t want to study.

As he walks, he lets his mind wander, thinking about where he’d rather be. It’s easy to imagine the pulsing bass in his chest and the stink of sweating, dancing bodies in a club. Maybe he’d be on the dance floor right now, a drink sloshing around in his hand messily and playful touches and smirks shared with anyone who would slide up to him. His mind drifts to another scenario where he’s pressed against a mattress, a low voice in his ear and familiar hands on his skin. Ten averts his thoughts quickly, a shiver running down his spine regardless. Johnny’s been busy with the pack on a full moon; Ten should pay him a visit later in the next couple days.

Suddenly enough to make the young man let out a little scream of shock, a loud clatter rings from a tiny side-road he’s just about to pass by. Ten jumps, skin prickling and heart racing as the unexpected noise sends a panic up through his gut and landing uncomfortably in his throat. It was just garbage cans, he realizes, seeing a toppled bin. Probably a stray dog or something looking for food.

But he’s not a total idiot, so as he continues his walk he’s careful to leave a wide berth around the area the clatter had come from. Even if it is just a dog, he doesn’t really feel like being bitten by anything rabid tonight. Vampire bites, fine. Actual dog bites? No thanks.

The next events seem to take an eternity to play out, and yet happen far too quickly for the young man to even begin to comprehend what’s going on. It’s a person, he knows that much even when he’s being toppled over. His head hits the pavement hard and his world goes black and fuzzy around the edges, and distantly he has the thought that he should scream again. The sound never makes it out of his lips, his attacker pouncing on top of him immediately with a knee on his chest and a hand on his throat. Ten doesn’t even have time to let out a groan of agony before blunt, human teeth tear into his shoulder with a shocking amount of pain. He thrashes, panicked cries finally leaving his lips that turn more gurgled as he feels teeth break flesh. His kicks and flails go unnoticed by the aggressor who shrugs them off as easily as if Ten’s attempts to fight back were as insignificant as a fly.

_Werewolf_ , Ten realizes, just before it feels like his whole body is tearing itself apart. Maybe the wolf really is killing him, ripping him limb from limb, breaking his bones until there’s nothing left that’s whole. It’s too much, far too much for him to tolerate, and the world goes black.

_Sticky_. It’s the first thing he registers when he comes to, the world still dark around him but no sign of the werewolf that had been tearing him apart. It’s _blood_ , Ten realizes, his own blood. It wets his clothes uncomfortably, sticks to the back of his head in matted clumps of hair. He shivers, the tears in his clothing making him feel exposed despite how little skin actually shows.

He notices the loud next. Sounds he’s never heard, voices with bodies he can’t connect them to, distant and too close all at once. Cars, a train, buses, horns, chatter, the click of a cash register opening and the ring of a shop bell. Ten sits up suddenly and the world spins, and the loud does not stop. Smells too; his blood, the werewolf that had been on top of him, his friend on crumpled papers in a now stained backpack, each item of spilled garbage and every single item that was still in the bins. His senses are overwhelmed, never before taking in so much information at once.

It hurts, his whole body aches as if he had just run an entire marathon, died and was buried, and dug himself back up out of the grave.

_Phone_ , he tells himself, trying not to keep himself together despite the overwhelming urge to cry. It’s not in his pocket where it should be and a choked sob forces its way out, irritating the wound in his throat where teeth—no, _werewolf fangs_ —had been. Panic begins to creep in, making his breathing rapid and his senses kick into a new level of overdrive. He finds his phone, screen shattered and laying on the ground not there feet away from where his head had been, hands are shaking as he clutches the device.

There’s so much blood. I need to call for help. It hurts. There’s too much.

His fingers seem to move on their own accord, ignoring the cracks of his shattered screen and mashing the only contact that matters right now. There’s blood on his fingers, he can feel it still oozing sluggishly out of ragged punctures in his neck too, now on his face when he presses the phone to his ear habitually.

Ten flinches away when the ringback tone trills. That too is too loud.

He tries to breathe, trying to calm himself before he hears anything on the other side. It doesn’t work. Tears spill as each ring of the phone and its unfamiliar volume, even dialed as far down as it goes, sends another spike of anxiety through his system. He can’t breathe for all the smells and his head feels like it’s about to explode, from overload or from being slammed against the ground he’s not sure.

“Johnny?” it’s choked, but not quite a sob when he speaks, hearing the line picked up. “It- it’s.. I’m-” he gasps for breath, and if he had been thinking past his own terror he’d be sure that Johnny can hear the tears in his broken voice. “ _There’s so much blood_.” English comes to his lips before Korean and he doesn’t bother looking for the words. Everything hurts, he can’t think.

Ten curls in on himself, one hand clutching his phone as if his life depended on it and the other pressed against his ear as if that will help block out some of the overwhelming sounds. It doesn’t. He whimpers, a scared and wounded creature left alone on a sidewalk. “There’s so much.. I’m- it hurts.”

The alpha gives him instructions through the phone that Ten never really registers. _Stay put. Don’t move. We’re coming for you._ Each syllable is drowned out by a distant train clacking along the tracks, the shriek of a toddler who doesn’t want to go to bed. Ten isn’t sure where he is anymore. Is he still in that dim alleyway? Or is he being laughed at in the middle of some sports bar where half a dozen men place bets on their favorite teams?

He hears Johnny before he sees him, smells him in a way that he thought would only be possible when his nose is pretty much pressed against hair or skin, and despite the still overwhelming magnitude of it all, it serves as a calming agent. He’s gasping, choking through tears still as he’s gathered up in familiar strong arms, and his fists clench in the material of the alpha’s shirt until his knuckles are white and shaking. His blood is all over the both of them. Ten chokes down another sob as Johnny pulls him close, pressing one of Ten’s ears against his chest and his hand cupped over the other.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m here, You’re alright. Just–just listen to my heartbeat, alright? Close your eyes. Don’t think about anything else.”

Of course, Johnny knows just what to say, exactly what to do. Ten can’t hold back the tears, fear and lingering pain spilling out in warm liquid streaks down his face and in quiet sobs from his lips, but it’s with less desperation as the alpha’s protective presence lulls him into a safer state. He can hear Johnny’s heart beating in the chest. He follows the instructions he’s given; he closes his eyes and just focuses on the arms wrapped around him, the heartbeat against his ear, the scent just under his nose. He’s shaking still, the pain and lingering fear sending cold shivers through his body, but slowly his cries die down to whimpers. It takes him several long minutes, but Ten can breathe again nestled into his alpha’s broad chest.

“I was just- I was just walking home,” his voice is soft as if he’s afraid to speak too loudly and split his own head open with the sheer volume. “It hurts,” he wails once more as if Johnny knew how to take all the pain away.

Ten knows he would if he could.


End file.
